He did not speak for a moment, and when he did, his tone was gruff. “May I ask why?”

It would be so much easier if he would be furious with her, or even blame her just a little. But then he wouldn’t be Donald, and she wouldn’t find this so heartbreakingly difficult. No matter what it cost her, she owed him the truth. “Until today, I’ve thought of you only as a very dear friend, and one of the few people—perhaps even the only one—who has always accepted me as I am.”

“Why would I change you? I love you as you are.”

“With all my numerous imperfections.” Margaret swallowed the lump in her throat.

“Which are far outweighed by your many, many excellent qualities.”

She knew he meant it. Donald never said anything he didn’t mean, and once again she was swayed. But it would be wrong. “Before I met you I thought I lacked any admirable qualities, but thanks to you, my dear friend, I know that to be untrue. You like me, warts and all, and have given me the encouragement and the confidence to believe in myself. I owe you a great deal. I trust your judgement more than anyone’s save my own. Whenever I am in a quandary I ask myself, what would Donald think?” Margaret drew a shaky breath, for she knew now what she had to say, and knew that it would put an end to everything between them. “And now you honour me by asking me to be so much more than a friend and I am so very tempted, because though I had no idea until we—until today that my feelings for you are real and run deep. But I am not ready to be a wife, far less a mother. In all honesty, I’ve no idea whether I will ever be ready. I am so very, very sorry.”

Still he said nothing. Margaret took another steadying breath, acutely aware of his hurt, confused gaze. “I had a letter from my father this morning.” Briefly, she explained the terms of her annuity. “So you see, I now have the means to live my own life, to make my own decisions without having to consult anyone else. I’ve never had that privilege before. I’ve never been free. If I agreed to marry you . . .”

“You think that marriage to me would enslave you?”

“No!” She made to touch his arm, but he jerked away. “Of course not, but I would be your wife, Donald, and as your wife I would inevitably be changed. I couldn’t simply be me; I would be part of something else.”

“You would be one half of us. Isn’t that the best of both worlds?”